Operation Piece Of Cake
by Red Witch
Summary: Cyril and Krieger are sent on their own freelance mission where things get messy.


**This time Krieger's virtual girlfriend took off with the disclaimer saying that I don't own any Archer characters. What started off as a silly little one shot has now grown into a freaking trilogy! Hooray for Madness! YAYYY!**

 **So what did Cyril and Krieger do that very same night Operations Double D and Chaos Theory were going on? What insane secret freelance mission did Mallory send them on? Well…**

 **Operation Piece of Cake**

"I'm not saying that I don't need the money," Cyril groaned as he rode next to Krieger in a white van. "Which I do. And having ten thousand dollars of tax free money won't come in handy. Which it will. I'm just saying…What is Ms. Archer up to this time? Why are we being paid so much to deliver a cake?"

"Maybe she's thinking of getting into the catering business?" Krieger suggested. They were both wearing white chef outfits.

"That's about as likely as Archer quitting drinking and joining the priesthood," Cyril grumbled. "Never going to happen."

"From what she told me this is a favor for a friend of hers," Krieger shrugged. "And it's under the table from the CIA missions so…"

"So not to tell anyone, I know…" Cyril interrupted. "I heard Ms. Archer's threat to literally disembowel and emasculate us very clearly. It's just…something doesn't add up. I mean why did we have to steal a catering van instead of using your van?"

"Because Rush Van is very, very, very messy!" Krieger's Virtual Girlfriend appeared.

"Well maybe if you would do a little cleaning every now and then…" Krieger snapped.

"You not program me for cleaning!" Krieger's VGF sniffed. "Besides you make this mess yourself. You and your **other creations**."

"Oh don't you start on **that** again!" Krieger snapped.

"You spend too much time with other things you make instead of me!" Krieger's VGF snapped back. "Sometimes I think you like pig boy better than me!"

"He's been dead for years and you know it!" Krieger shouted.

"I wonder how **that** happened and whose fault it was?" Krieger's VGF rolled her animated eyes.

"You want to get **permanently** shut off like Pigly I can make it happen!" Krieger snapped. "I swear one of these days I will figure out how to do it!"

"My motherboard was so right about you," The anime hologram sniffed.

"Oh fine! Bring **her** into this!" Krieger yelled. "You are so much like her…"

"You really want to **go there**?" Krieger's VGF snapped. "About how we are like our _parents_? Because I no think you will like it when I take **you** there!"

"You know that's a very sensitive issue for me!" Krieger snapped.

"Hai, let's see how much like your genetic ancestor **you are**!" Krieger's VGF went on.

"I DON'T EVEN LOOK LIKE HITLER!" Krieger shouted.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Cyril shouted, not able to take anymore. "Krieger your girlfriend is not your servant. And if you wanted her to be your servant you should have programmed her to be."

"HA!" Krieger's VGF snorted.

"And you…I don't really know your name," Cyril looked at the hologram. "But you should know that Krieger is sensitive about the whole Hitler thing."

"Or being clone of clone of Hitler," The hologram added.

"Whatever!" Cyril rolled his eyes. "Why don't the two of you just focus on what you have in common instead of nitpicking each other on every little thing? Just focus what makes your relationship…for lack of a better word…work!"

"Well…" Krieger paused. "I have been spending more time than usual with my work."

"I miss Mushu Nights," Krieger's VGF admitted. "You no seem to have time for me anymore."

"I'm sorry, I've just been so busy lately," Krieger said. "We should go back to our weekly date night again."

"I like that," The hologram grinned. "My cherry blossoms wilt for you."

"Awwww…" Krieger blushed.

"I am riding around in stolen catering van delivering a cake for some weird reason in a neighborhood I don't know…" Cyril moaned. "Playing couple's counselor with a possible Hitler clone or clone of a Hitler clone and his hologram anime girlfriend. Oh God I thought I would be doing way better in the life department by now…"

"Geeze what's your problem?" Krieger asked.

"Why you such a downer?" Krieger's VGF asked.

"The reason I'm being such a damn downer is that I have no idea what kind of insane sadistic twist there is to this mission!" Cyril shouted. "And don't say there isn't one because we all know there always is when it comes to Mallory and her schemes."

"Hai, she is one sick twisted bitch," Krieger's VGF admitted.

"We're being paid ten thousand dollars to deliver a cake and to not tell anyone about it! What's the catch?" Cyril asked. "And more importantly why doesn't Ms. Archer have her precious son do this?"

"Because he already on mission tonight with Pam and glue sniffing red haired bitch," Krieger's VGF spoke up. "Going to steal panty pictures at fancy party."

"Really? Sounds like Archer's kind of mission. What about Lana and Ray? They're actual agents," Cyril asked.

"They're on a mission too. Which I really wanted to go on that one," Krieger said. "I always wanted to steal fossils from a museum."

"Fossils?" Cyril asked.

"Some rich guy Ms. Archer knows wanted them for his collection or something," Krieger shrugged.

"So basically Ms. Archer is having all of us carry out some highly illegal freelance missions on the same night?" Cyril groaned. "Great. Just great! Let's just add on to the already long list of criminal activities that might come back to bite me in the ass in the future!"

"What do you mean?" Krieger asked.

"I've been thinking," Cyril said. "I did pretty good running things when I was dictator of San Marcos for three weeks. Maybe I should go into government work?"

"Which government?" Krieger blinked.

"Our government!" Cyril snapped. "The United States of America?"

"Oh **that** one," Krieger nodded. "I thought you were talking about going back to San Marcos."

"No," Cyril said.

"Because I was thinking 'Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat'?" Krieger went on. "San Marcos? That's not exactly the best idea."

"I am aware of that," Cyril said dryly.

"I mean I don't even think there is a government anymore," Krieger kept going. "I mean not only is Calderon dead there was no one left to govern. Not to mention the whole country was pretty much bombed back into the stone age by the Marines and the Navy."

"I know."

"And now I heard they've got some kind of quarantine around the country so getting back in is pretty much almost impossible," Krieger went on. "I wonder if that has anything to do with all the nerve gas and toxic wastes buried in the labs underneath the palace?"

"It's a possibility," Cyril gave him a look.

"Even if you could get back into San Marcos they're probably kill you on sight," Krieger went on. "I mean…most people do not take kindly to deposed dictators coming back into power. Especially the people who worked under them."

"I KNOW KRIEGER!" Cyril snapped.

"So working for the United States government is actually a pretty smart move," Krieger said. "But why are you thinking of a career change? Aren't you happy at our agency?"

"I take it that's a rhetorical question?" Cyril asked.

"Okay that was kind of dumb," Krieger admitted. "But seriously what brought this on?"

"Besides being fed up with the years of abuse, mocking and having my life constantly in danger?" Cyril asked.

"Yeah," Krieger said.

"I've been going over the numbers of what our agency makes and what it spends and factoring the ratio of successful missions…" Cyril told him. "It's not good."

"Define not good," Krieger asked.

"Our agency hasn't been financially in the black for years," Cyril said. "We spend three times more money than what comes into the office. Despite the fact that we have downsized our agency by ninety percent. And our mission success rate is far lower than our mission failure rate."

"Okay…That's not good," Krieger winced.

"Even if we **didn't** count last year…" Cyril groaned. "And completely ignored the mess that we call the Summer of Cocaine, Country Music and Coups our mission success rate is still only forty five percent!"

"Forty five percent? Wow!" Krieger whistled. "I could have sworn it was a lot lower."

"Even an amateur statistician can put together the numbers and figure out that this partnership with the CIA won't last," Cyril said. "And we may have to consider the very real possibility that the agency will dissolve and we will have to get other jobs."

"You do have a point," Krieger said. "Good thing there's always work in the mad scientist field."

"Yeah well for some of us, becoming the next Lex Luthor isn't an option!" Cyril snapped.

"Lex Luthor? Please!" Krieger scoffed. "I don't want to be him. The guy is a total douchebag!"

"Yes well…"

"I mean seriously! The guy is a scientific genius billionaire who somehow gets to be President of the United States and all he can think of is destroying Superman with some kind of giant asteroid?" Krieger scoffed. "That is so ridiculous!"

"I see your point…"

"I mean come on! If I was president all I'd have to do is sic the Secret Service on him!" Krieger said. "Or better yet! The IRS! That'd really scare…"

"Krieger can I **continue?** " Cyril was getting irritated.

"Oh sorry," Krieger blinked.

"As I was saying…" Cyril sighed. "As it seems that our agency is further spiraling out of control…One possible line of work for me is to go into politics. Even though there is a slight chance I may have to change my name and move to another state I think I might be able to be a pretty good politician."

"Well you are a failed lawyer," Krieger admitted. "And you know how to lie and embezzle. You do have the qualifications for it."

"Yes well…" Cyril sighed. "It is a good career move. You know? As long as no one finds out all the other things I did."

"You mean like the embezzlement, the drugs, the murders and being dictator of a foreign country?" Krieger asked.

"Yes."

"Not to mention working for an illegal spy agency, which is technically treason," Krieger went on.

"Yeah definitely need to keep the treason on the down low," Cyril groaned.

"Not to mention you screwing around on Lana with Cheryl, Pam, Scatterbrained Jane and pretty much any woman who would let you," Krieger said.

"That part I'm not so concerned with," Cyril said. "Actually I've noticed when people find out who I've slept with their estimation of me goes up a notch so…"

"Not to mention that tiny little incident with Ray…"

"Krieger shut up!" Cyril snapped. "We're here!"

They parked in back of a restaurant with the sign, _Corleone's._ "This looks like the place all right," Krieger said. "Come on. Help me get the cake out."

It wasn't long before they were inside the restaurant. With some very large, very Italian looking men standing around.

"Is it just me or do these guys look a little…" Cyril gulped as they moved the cake into the kitchen. "Like extras out of Goodfellas?"

"Hold on," One of the very large beefy men in an expensive suit stopped them. "Tony, Matteo search 'em!"

"Hey! What are you…?" Cyril gulped as he was pushed against the wall with Krieger and patted down.

"Aren't you gonna buy me dinner first?" Krieger quipped.

"Wise guy huh?" One of the mobsters snarled.

"Technically aren't you…?" Krieger began.

"Why I oughta…" The mobster growled.

"Calm down Tony," The first mobster grunted. "They're clean. Can't be too careful with the boss' party."

"Okay so here's your cake," Krieger said. "So how does this work? Do you pay us or…?"

The mobsters glared at them. "Or we could just leave the cake with you and go away," Cyril gulped. "Come on Krieger!"

"As my girlfriend would say…Sayonara!" Krieger waved as Cyril dragged him out the door.

"What weird couple of mooks," Tony grunted.

"Good cake though," One of the mobsters took his finger and licked the icing.

"What's a matter with you? Ain't you got no manners?" Tony shouted.

"Some people got no class," The other mobster agreed.

"Oh my God," Cyril panted as they made it back to the van and got in. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Those guys were scary! I feel lucky we got out of there in once piece!"

"Yeah and we made it with minutes to spare," Krieger nodded as he looked at his watch. "Ms. Archer insisted that the cake be delivered precisely at 8 PM!"

"Wait. Why did we have to deliver the cake at precisely…?" Cyril began.

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Cyril's jaw dropped as the restaurant exploded into flames before his eyes. "Oh yeah. Definitely good that we got out of there before then," Krieger nodded very calmly.

"Did we just carry out a **mob hit**?" Cyril was horrified.

"Uh let's see," Krieger blinked. "Italian restaurant blown up. Check. Fire everywhere. Check."

THUD!

"AAAAAAHHH!" Cyril yelled as an arm hit the windshield.

"Body parts of mobsters falling from the sky," Krieger said casually. "Check."

"It is a hit all right," Krieger's VGF said. "Krieger-San your bomb work perfectly!"

"WHAT? YOU KNEW…?" Cyril shrieked. "THERE WAS A BOMB INSIDE THE CAKE?"

"Even better! The entire cake was a bomb!" Krieger said cheerfully. "The frosting and the batter were made with liquid explosives of my own design! Cool huh?"

"KRIEGER WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING?" Cyril yelled.

"I didn't want you to freak out," Krieger said calmly as he used the windshield wipers to remove the arm from the windshield. "Which you are so…You're welcome!"

"For what? Making me an accessory in a **mob hit?"** Cyril shouted. "Oh God I'm an accessory in a mob hit!"

"Technically not," Krieger said as he pulled the van away and started to drive off. "You're more of a co-assassin in a successful assassination mission which the targets just happened to be members of an organized crime gang. And our client is the head of another organized crime gang who wanted them gone."

"I can never run for public office can I?" Cyril wailed as another dream of his was shattered.

"Depends on what country you run in," Krieger said. "And how liberal their murder laws are."

"I hate my life so much," Cyril moaned.


End file.
